Foundations
by LuctorEtEmergo
Summary: Post-Chosen: Buffy, the Scoobies, and the Slayerettes accept an offer of hospitality from Angel Investigations and make their way to the Hyperion to regroup. Buffy is stunned by Spike's death, but finds herself intrigued by a Wesley she doesn't recognize.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

The school bus wound its way down two-lane roads badly in need of a paving, dodging potholes and crater-like cracks, until they hit highway 101, at which point the roads smoothed out and contributed to Buffy's creepy feeling that it had all been a dream. Perhaps their memories had been corrupted... maybe this had all been a dream. The destruction of Sunnydale, the death of... _Can't say it, too soon_. But no, once the roads that had led to Sunnydale ran out, they started to see other cars on the road and signs that life had continued outside of Sunnydale's apocalypse. Once the traffic picked up and it became obvious that the Slayers had successfully neutralized the apocalypse and escaped the crater of Sunnydale, the girls started exchanging stories, first in low voices, increasing in volume the more they realized and reveled in their triumph.

Buffy, Dawn, Xander, Willow and Giles sat in the rows near the back of the bus, separate from the celebrations among the younger Slayers, all silently contemplating the events of the day. For them, the victory was tainted by memories of people who didn't make it out of Sunnydale with them. The sense of loss was heaviest for Xander and Buffy, both of whom had been on the verge of breakthroughs with their old lovers and ready to try their relationships again. But Spike and Anya had both lost their lives in the battle, making their victory over the First bittersweet. Buffy began to weep silently. Xander came over to sit by her and put an arm around her shoulders, tears sliding down his cheeks as well. Dawn, in the row in front of them, knelt and leaned over the back of the seat to hold their hands in a silent show of support. Giles and Willow were a steady presence in the seat next to Buffy and Xander, their eyes telling them both what they felt uncomfortable saying in front of the other Slayers, that they mourned their losses, too.

The remainder of the trip felt smooth and safe, albeit surreal; it was a drastic change from the threat they had felt only the day before. Now they needed to find a safe harbor for a few weeks to sort out the shreds of their lives, and Giles and Buffy had decided on traveling to L.A. to take advantage of Angel's offer of hospitality. Buffy knew logically that the idea made sense, but was still worried about their choice of Angel. To her, it felt like a betrayal of Spike to go dashing into Angel's arms the moment Spike was gone. She told herself over and over that she was not chasing after Angel, was not even interested in any sort of relationship with him at this point; she simply needed a good place to rest her troops, and Angel's offer of private hotel rooms was just what they needed. Logically, she agreed that it was the best idea they had. Emotionally, she didn't think she would be able to bear even talking to Angel at this point because he would inevitably remind her of Spike, burned up in a crater at the bottom of the world.

Night was drawing on when they finally made it to the outskirts of L.A. The bus navigated the freeways and local streets until finally Buffy found herself staring up at the Hyperion Hotel, which was to be their base of operations for the immediate future. The building looked pleasant enough from outside in the early evening, with welcoming lights on in the lower levels. Hardly any of the girls had any bags to speak of, so the grand hall of the hotel was soon filled with dirty, exhausted Slayers and the even more weary veteran Scoobies. Fred, who had been waiting at the desk, let out an excited shout and yelled, "They're here!" to the second floor. She shyly approached Buffy where she stood with Xander, Giles and Willow while the other Slayers milled about, talking loudly about the decor. "Hi! Uh... I'm Fred, I don't know if anyone ever mentioned me. I was a physics PhD student who got sucked into a demon world and existed there for 5 years. Hi! Hi," she said as she shook their hands. Buffy smiled, taking an instant liking to the girl. "You must be Buffy," Fred continued. "I've heard so many stories about you, the blond Slayer, the original. It's so exciting to get to meet you!"

Buffy laughed and shook her hand. "Well, I hope the stories were the good ones, not the ones where I got my butt handed to me by the resident Big Bad." _Big Bad was one of _his _phrases, _Buffy thought. _Can't think of him yet.... _Her face had fallen slightly. Fred noticed, and was about to ask if she was alright when she was interrupted by the arrival of Angel, Wesley and Gunn.

"Hey there, Buffy," Angel murmured, pulling her into his chest for a hug. She tensed up and debated pushing him away, but reminded herself that he was their gracious host and that a simple hug wasn't a betrayal of Spike. "Giles told me all about the situation a few nights ago, told us to possibly expect a herd of Slayers later this week. We've got rooms all set up for you." He looked around the room at the survivors, his smile falling. "I knew, sort of, about Spike, when he... went. Vampire families can kind of feel these things. Though I hoped that my feelings were wrong, or that my idiot childe would figure out some sort of way to cheat death like he always does." He paused, and saw Buffy's eyes were bright with tears. "He's not coming, is he?" Her face crumpled and her tears tumbled silently down as she whispered, "No. No, he's not coming." She leaned her face into her hands, trying not to draw the attention of the Newborn Slayers.

Angel nodded and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Buffy," but she refused his move to hug her again. He turned back to the other Scoobies watching with frowns on their faces. "Uh, well, mi hotel, su hotel, for as long as you need it. Fred ordered some pizzas once she saw the school bus outside, so those should be arriving any minute. I'm sure everyone could use a little food and relaxation. Just tell the girls to let me or any of the others know when they would like to retire, and we'll provide them with a key." He nodded again, cast another look at Buffy, and walked with Gunn over to offer support to Fred, who was trying to carry on a conversation with 5 of the teenaged Slayers at once.

Buffy sniffled and sat down on a nearby bench, running her hands through her hair and willing herself to stop crying. She shook her hands and head, trying to get ahold of herself. "It's only the first day," a soft British voice murmured to her, causing her to stop her distractions and gaze up at the speaker. "It's okay to cry..." He paused, and looked away from her to the windows outside. "You don't always have to be strong."

Wesley had changed since she had seen him last. In fact, this Wesley was nearly unrecognizable from the, well, buffoon of a Watcher she had known before. All the airs and pretenses Buffy remembered from her senior year of high school were gone, along with his naivete. This Wesley seemed hard, determined, confident but not cocky. The tailored suits Buffy remembered had been replaced by well-cut dark denim jeans and a button-down green shirt left open at the neck. Despite his scruffy five o'clock shadow, the overall impression of neatness was still there; however, that was about all that Buffy could find in his appearance that she remembered. Even his eyes... this new Wesley's eyes were still ice-blue, but they had hardened over the years, the sadness etched in every striation of his irises, leaving none of the pretentious Watcher she had known behind. It gave him, she had to admit, an incredible amount of sex appeal, this mixture of competence, conflict and hurt. He crouched down before her and glanced up into her eyes for a few uncomfortable seconds before looking away again, and whispered, "The first day is always the hardest, don't be ashamed of it."

Buffy was shocked, the tears ceasing almost immediately as she stared at this alien Wesley in front of her. _Wesley is being _nice, she thought. _Not just nice, but understanding. And he's completely serious._ She sniffed distractedly, still staring at him. He finally looked back at her, and upon seeing her gobsmacked impression, allowed a small smile at the corner of his mouth. "Well, what, you expected me in my tweeds, lecturing you about your responsibilities as a guardian of the world?" he joked, smiling still further when it became obvious she was even more shocked than before. "I guess you did," he murmured, moving to stand back up.

"Wesley!" Buffy exclaimed softly, catching his hand before he could straighten up. She suddenly realized that she didn't know what she meant to say, and that this slight contact with Wesley's hand felt like far more of a betrayal of Spike than her hug with Angel had. "Thanks," she said softly under her breath. "That means a lot to me. I, uh... I guess I did expect the Watcher I knew. But this is good. Much better." She paused, feeling awkward. "Thank you," she muttered, as the tears came back and she found herself quietly sobbing again. Without letting go of her hand, he shifted up from his crouch and settled down next to her on the bench, content to simply sit near her and let her get out whatever she needed to get out. This time, she regained her composure within a few minutes. She uncomfortably wondered if it wasn't because of the soft, soothing strokes Wesley was using on the hand of hers that he still held in his. When she was finally sure that she wasn't going to lose her control and start sobbing again, (at least, not for a few hours, God willing,) she raised her eyes back to his, shocked to find he had been staring at her. He didn't break the eye contact out of embarrassment, simply looked into her reddened eyes with a look of empathy that stole Buffy's breath away. _What has happened to this man since my Graduation Day, _she wondered, staring back at him despite her awkwardness. She realized suddenly that they had been gazing at each other for well over 20 seconds and that she really was tired and in need of alone time. Without looking away, she asked softly, "Um, Wesley, could I get that room key now? I think I'll turn in."

He held her gaze for another few moments, then released her from his gaze, rising to move towards the front desk of the hotel. "Not a problem at all. Let's see, we've prepared about 40 rooms, just in case... why don't you take 319? It's a nice mini-suite, close to the lobby and the lifts, but not so close that you'll hear them running all night." He smiled and held the key up to her, which she took gratefully. As she went to climb the winding staircase to the second floor, he called out to her suddenly, as if he had been debating internally and come to a decision.

"Buffy?" His voice was like velvet, and she shuddered slightly at the rumbling it made in her stomach. She turned around in the middle of the staircase. "Yeah?"

He climbed a few stairs to be closer to her, and said in a low voice, "If you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm in 325 down the hall. I know, I know that I'm probably the last person you'd think of confiding in, but sometimes, those people are good listeners because they aren't as emotionally invested or biased as your best friends can be.... Not that I don't think highly of your friends, because I do, it's not at all like that, I just..." He paused, and Buffy smiled a little to see him a little discomfited, even as composed as he seemed to be nowadays. He nodded to himself and continued. "Well, if you need an open ear and _very_ open mind, room 325." With that, he turned and walked back down to the hall, joining Gunn's conversation with Giles and Willow. Buffy stared after Wesley for a moment, incredulous to see how much Wesley had changed, and wondering not only what had happened to make him take himself less seriously, but also what was obviously burdening his conscience and soul. She also wondered what he meant when he stressed that he had a "_very_ open mind" now. Was that a reference to her relationship with Spike? Did he know about that? And what could have happened to make the man who was always so obsessed with the rules so informal, so flexible? She wondered about that as she climbed the stairs to the elevator.

Room 319 was indeed a pleasant little suite just a short distance from the elevator. As Buffy showered and got ready to crawl into bed, she thought about the brief exchanges she had had with Wesley that evening. She couldn't deny that something in her felt that he might understand some of her more unusual problems, that he could be a good confidante. Something told her, too, that he would never betray her trust to anyone. There had been an air of tension between Wesley and Angel, and she secretly wondered if there was anyone left in Angel Investigations that he would even confide in himself, let alone reveal her secrets to. And when had his eyes become so _intense_? It was like he had looked straight through her, from her eyes to the back of her head.

She climbed into bed, falling asleep almost immediately, but dreaming of vampires with blonde hair and blue eyes lying dead in graves, even though she knew from thousands of experiences that a dead vamp dusted. There was a British man nearby in the shadows, who laid his hand upon her shoulder and told her in velvety tones that everything would be alright, and though she heard that from any number of her gang day in and day out, for the first time in a long time, she actually believed those words.


	2. Chapter 2

********AUTHOR'S NOTE********

First of all, thanks so much to everyone who wants to follow this story and me, and of course to the reviewers for Chapter 1! This is my first fanfic I'm actually trying to post, not just write for myself, and I'm such a n00b that I forgot to include an author's note on the first chapter.

I am hoping to expand this story out to many chapters, maybe even write some follow-up fics, (tease tease,) but I am unfortunately extremely busy so these might take a while to get out. I'm also very critical of my own writing and tend to agonize over every word. Please bear with me and what I'm sure will be a very erratic posting schedule. I was motivated to get back to writing by those lovely reviews. =)

Finally, I should have mentioned before that I am merely an ardent admirer of Joss Whedon's characters and stories. I do not own either, and this is purely written for fun.

***********ON TO THE STORY!*************

CHAPTER 2

Some time later that night, after helping to serve pizza to a pack of hungry Slayerettes and organize the sleeping arrangements, Wesley excused himself and climbed the stairs to the third floor, lost in thought. He reached the landing across from his door and found himself gazing down the hallway to room number 319. _Why is this troubling me, the arrival of the Slayers? _Wesley had an analytical mind by nature and a talent bordering upon obsession with words as well. _No, it's not _troubling,_ per se. It's, what's the word… it could almost be called – _

Wesley shook his head as the trance he had fallen into broke. He hurriedly wrestled his keys out of his pocket, embarrassed at the word that had come to him unbidden. _I am NOT going to think about what that means._

The lock clicked and the door swung open silently on oiled hinges into the darkened suite. Wesley absent-mindedly flipped a light switch on the wall nearby and dropped his keys on a side table as he strode in. His rooms were sparsely but tastefully furnished, like a page out of a Brooks Brothers catalog: classic navy and white cotton bedding, a comfortable old English-looking leather chair near the fireplace, a neat desk with several large tomes piled on top of it in orderly stacks. The more observant would have noticed what the room distinctly lacked: personal touches. No photographs adorned the surfaces. The books were almost certainly not for recreational reading, unless a study of the nastier rituals of Vietnamese demonic cults could be considered entertainment.

He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over the desk chair, still distracted and a little disturbed by the word that had popped into his mind in the hall. _Well, it's not like it is a bad word in and of itself. If one ignores the only connotation that popular culture has come to allow it and focuses instead upon the _denotation, _the technical, absolute definition, it's… possibly appropriate. Maybe._

Wesley sighed and hung his jeans in the closet, pulling a pair of pajama pants from a drawer. Again, the attentive might have marked how few garments hung on the racks, and the half-emptiness of the drawers in the chest. He wasn't living a Spartan existence, but it was clear that he didn't particularly care about worldly possessions. If the building caught fire and anyone inside only had five minutes to get out, Wesley would be able to throw a few changes of clothes into a bag and walk out with two minutes to spare. There was almost no clutter, and there certainly wasn't anything personal to agonize over leaving.

Long after he turned out the light in the bathroom and had gotten into bed, he lay awake, listening to the elevator running the young Slayers upstairs, footsteps echoing and doors slamming faintly. His mind wandered, and he found himself trying to recall details from earlier on that evening, like what earrings Buffy had been wearing, and how her perfume mixed with her sweat from the morning's battle had smelled when he had knelt down before her. That hair – would the color best be described as a honey or a sun-kissed blonde? And most importantly, what had happened in her life since he had first known her to make her so serious, so determined, so _strong?_ He imagined he could almost feel her presence now, even asleep, down the hall and through two doors…

He shuddered, covered his head with a pillow and groaned loudly into it. The word that had floated into his mind, seemingly out of nowhere, had been _arousing_. The arrival of the Slayers was almost _arousing…_


	3. Chapter 3

*********AUTHOR'S NOTE*********

Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed or is following this! I've read fanfic for a long time but never posted one before, and it is amazing how encouraging those words of appreciation are.

Well, in order to get to the Wesley/Buffy goodness, (which I'm hoping to develop over the course of several chapters,) we have to clear some of the air on Spike. The good stuff is coming, I promise!

Again, the standard fanfic disclaimer: I am merely a fan, not in any sense an owner, of these characters. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it all, and much love to them both. Now on to the story!

* * *

CHAPTER 3

Late the following morning, Buffy awoke and didn't remember where she was or how she had gotten there. The moment of panic quickly subsided and was replaced by the sense of a heavy weight descending upon her chest when she remembered the events of the day before. _Spike,_ she thought, tears already threatening in her eyes just at the thought of the name, _I miss you. I miss you so much already._

A soft knock at the door interrupted her imminent breakdown. Brushing at her eyes and trying to straighten her hair, she let her visitor in. It turned out to be Dawn, who looked at her sister apprehensively. "Hi Buffy," she said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She seemed to be trying to think of something to say. "Uh, just wanted to be sure you didn't sleep the entire day away. There's still a little breakfast left downstairs, if you hustle. Xander, Willow and Giles didn't want to talk plans until you were up, so you're not missing much if you'd rather stay in bed." She paused. "I'd understand if you wanted to stay up here for a while."

Buffy smiled at her sister through her wet eyes. She knew that Dawn was still angry about what she had heard from Xander about the... incident… in her bathroom the previous year. _Xander and his big mouth,_ Buffy thought bitterly. She had hoped that nobody, especially Dawn, would ever hear about that. It had it wasn't quite as simple as black and white, consent and force. Everything between her and Spike had always been shades of grey, in fact it had been one of the hallmarks of all of their previous sexual activities: no safe words and poorly defined limits that both of them constantly tested. It didn't make what he had done okay, _(Not by a long shot,)_ but she remembered the horrified look on his face when he had realized that she was serious about her refusal that night and that what he had done was a violation. And then he had run off to Africa the very next day to win back his soul.

He had fought her at first, the only competitor she'd ever had who had been truly an equal match for her strength. After joining the Scooby side he had frequently been a source of aggravation and miscommunication, but he had also been a source of comfort and quiet strength to her during her darkest times. And now he was gone in a crater that contained the remains of what had been her home along with her mother's grave...

A tear rolled down Buffy's cheek, and she buried her face in her hands. Dawn pulled her sister into her arms and merely held her, stroking her hair, waiting for her to talk. "Dawn," she said feebly, "Dawnie, I miss him so much! I really did love him, even though it's confusing, it was never simple… And there were moments that neither of us were proud of. But I really, truly did love Spike." She paused and took a shaky breath. "He was always there. I was so used to him being around! I guess I just assumed that he was always going to be there, you know? Teasing me with that smirk of his, or pointing out the flaws in my less-than-perfect plans. Maybe holding me when I slept, I don't know, at the end it started seeming like a possibility again. And now, now I have NO plans and NO smirking and no one to hold me at night and it's all been_ swallowed up in a hole_ and..." She broke down, weeping openly.

"Buffy, shhhhh, it's okay! I know it's not what you want to hear, but you'll meet someone else, eventually. Maybe someone human, normal even! Someone who will really understand you."

Buffy forced a smile and looked her in the eyes, determined to set the record straight once and for all. _Everything seems so clear now…_ "No, Dawnie. That was Angel's dream for me, probably Xander's too, that I would find some nice human boy and we'd do the house in the suburbs with the white picket fence. But really, honestly, that's not my dream. It can't ever be. I mean, how could an average guy on the streets understand what I've been through? Do you think he would understand being called to this life, if you can call it a life, at age 15, killing demons and, oh yeah, occasionally saving the world from time to time? Even Riley's ego couldn't handle it, and he already knew the back story. And slaying isn't something you can exactly give up, like smoking or carbs." She sniffed and rubbed her eyes and cheeks, feeling older than her years. "Dawn," she said as she straightened up and took her sister's hands in hers, "I'm never going to be able to have normal. I'd never be able to DO normal. How can I when I don't even understand it? I mean, can you _imagine_ me having a kid? Every time I even think about it, which isn't often, I think about what happened to Principal Wood's Slayer mom, how he was left to fend for himself when she died. I can't do that to a child. This has been my reality for so long, there's no going back. Spike was right. He was right about a lot of things. And Dawn," she saw her sister starting to scoff and look away, and pulled her chin around so she could look her in the eyes again, "what happened between Spike and me last year," she shuddered slightly at the thought, "was… _awful, _but it was born out of a lot of angst, and misunderstanding, and our own crazy history. This isn't the victim defending her attacker; this is me being honest with you because there were lots of good times and I really don't want you remembering him that way. Think about him teaching you to play poker in his crypt, or guarding your identity with his life when he had been captured by Glory. He loved you like an adopted sister, Dawnie. I've made my peace with that night and forgiven him, and it would help if you would, too."

Dawn's face crumpled as her eyes teared up. "Okay, Buffy. Okay," She laughed ironically and looked up to the ceiling. "I had actually really missed him this whole year, didn't talk to him because I was angry… But that summer after Glory when you… uh…"

Buffy nodded sadly. "When I was dead. You can say that, too."

"Right, when you… died… He actually _listened_. He was the only one of the gang who treated me like an adult. I appreciated that." Dawn sighed again. "But I never said so, so I guess he died thinking I hated him, but I didn't, I didn't…" she trailed off, her voice cracking.

Now it was Buffy's turn to play comforter, and she held Dawn tightly to soothe her. "He knew, Dawnie, he knew. You had a lot to figure out. He knew."

They sat there in a comfortable silence for a few minutes more before Dawn remembered why she had come to Buffy's room in the first place. "Okay," she sniffed, "enough of the weepies for today." She brushed her tears away and resolved her face into a businesslike expression that made Buffy smile, seeing her little sister all grown-up and mature. "Buffy, get showered, brush your hair... Fred loaned us some of her clothes. They fit me just right so they'll probably be long on you, but that's okay. We'll get you some food, assuming there's any left, and then we can go shopping. If you ever make it out of bed!" Buffy smiled and tickled Dawn's sides until Dawn jumped up laughing and headed for the door. "I'll go threaten bodily harm to any rogue Slayers who try to polish off the leftovers from breakfast!" The door closed behind her, and Buffy got out of bed feeling like a little of the weight had been lifted from her heart.

* * *

*************AUTHOR'S NOTE***********

Okay, the infamous Bathroom Scene… I tried to get around talking about it in this chapter, but couldn't have Dawn and Buffy have a serious conversation about Spike without bringing it up. It seemed natural in the wake of Spike's death, with the world saved and time to actually talk to each other again, that it would eventually come up and Buffy would have to at least give her the Cliff's Notes.

This is my version of what might have been going on in Buffy's head after _Seeing Red _and through the end of the series when she was back to spending her nights with Spike. I think it was pretty clear by the last few episodes that she had, guardedly, forgiven him, so I tried to work backwards from that. I am NOT trying to excuse Spike's actions in that scene, but I did always think that that whole incident was borne out of the violence that had always characterized their relationship throughout the series. Dawn and Buffy might have a deeper discussion about it later, but I haven't decided yet. I really don't want to focus on Spike, (especially on all of the season six drama,) in a fic about Wesley. We'll see.

Anyways, on to the next chapter! I'm posting two at once because I wouldn't want to leave things on a sour note, especially after such a long time without an update.


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